Nadine O'Regan: Off Message

Nadine O'Regan: Off Message
Smiling through the pain: nice effort, ladies, but Woodstock this ain’t PIc: Andres Poveda

Delusions of blue skies? Legs turning even bluer? Don’t be alarmed: it’s just a bad case of festival fever and when it comes to being painfully hip in fields of mud and music, Irish women are expected (and prepared) to give it lots of artistically designed welly

What peculiar times we live in. This is my prevailing thought every time summer rolls around again and I find myself in that same pressured and difficult place: getting ready for a festival. Don’t get me wrong – I love festivals. But when you go to a festival in freezing cold, miserable Ireland, you’re expected to perform a rare feat of magic. Even as you plunge through the muck, feel the rain spatter your face and shiver as a north-easterly wind blows hard enough to knock the bands’ mic stands over, you are also (if you’re female) expected to look like you have emerged freshly from a salon, with perfect hair, kohled eyes and a glamorous and sexy outfit that reveals a huge amount of flesh but will also, somehow, keep you warm enough to survive three days and nights of partying, while also sleeping in a crap two-man tent.

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